Christine Rau

You were with me that
Winter night at 2 AM.
We stood on your front porch.
The branches hung low over
Power lines branches and bushes
Encased in sheer, smooth ice.  Finally,
A lull in the seven day and night
Storm.  White wisps of
Vapor streamed from the top of your
Hatless head.  You didn't wear gloves either.
My teeth chattered while the rest of me
Shivered.  Artificial lightning
Stabbed across the purple sky
Over the trestle at the
End of the block.
Blinding white
Flashes that pulled us from the
House.  A train howled past.
Friction between cold steel and cold steel.
White sparks showered down.
Workers followed in their orange down
Jackets and black cupelinis,
Setting the tracks ablaze
So they wouldn't crack and fall apart in the
Cold.  You heated your lungs with
Cigarette smoke.  You
Created thick clouds around you.
I leaned away from the menthol smell
But wanted to be against your chest
In the folds of your unzipped fleece.
Silence set in, broken only by tiny
Tinkling of twigs when the wind blew,
And when you exhaled,
And when the screen door slammed behind you
When you went inside
Without even saying the words. 

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